


Making Amends

by Strings (fangirlgeekout)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angel Mojo, Episode: s09e11 First Born, Fluff, Gen, Tickling, Ticklish Castiel, Ticklish Sam Winchester, not exactly Sastiel but not exactly not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-22 08:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13760121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlgeekout/pseuds/Strings
Summary: Post-9x11. Cas is trying to explore his understanding of Sam through some (not so) subtle mimicry, and attempts to work through some guilt issues.





	Making Amends

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted Jan 2014 on [Tumblr](http://wordstrings.tumblr.com/post/74466361668/making-amends).

“I am sorry, Sam.”

Sam lowered his book to his stomach and tilted his head up. He couldn’t see the angel’s expression - only the underside of his chin. “What for?”

The two were situated in the bunker library, trying to dredge up any clues that might help them locate Gadreel. The tracking spell that seemed like their best shot had been a failure, and while Sam was fairly sure he’d scoured every book of angel lore twice over already, he and Castiel were still hoping to find something. The removal of the last traces of Gadreel’s grace had left Sam weak, and he had sprawled tiredly on the couch after selecting his current book. Cas had stood rigidly nearby, scanning the handwritten journal he’d chosen, until Sam had sighed and told him to “ _come sit down already, you’re making me more exhausted just watching you stand there_." Cas had surprised him by shedding his outer layers and laying them carefully over the arm of the couch before sitting, and Sam wondered if he was mimicking the way he’d stripped his flannel for the extraction procedure.

They’d been in companionable silence for some time - Cas seated at one end of the sofa, Sam using the angel’s thigh as a pillow - and the sudden apology caught the hunter off balance.

Castiel finished reading one more line in the notebook he held at arm’s length, elbow resting on the arm of the couch, before he looked down at the questioning hazel eyes framed by tawny hair splayed across his lap. "For your pain.”

“Cas, I’m  _fine_ ,” Sam insisted with a short laugh. “I told you a dozen times already.”

“Yes, well…” The angel’s mouth tightened into a thin line, and he returned his attention to the notebook. “It still… bothers me. Nothing useful came of it.”

“We had to try.”

The lull stretched on with no further addition from Castiel, so Sam lifted his book back into his line of sight.

Another few moments passed before Cas commented, “I meant what I said.”

Sam let his book fall again. “About?”

“You.” Cas reached out to turn a page. “How nothing is worth losing you. You are  _fearfully and wonderfully made_ , Sam.”

The hunter’s brow furrowed. “I’m what?”

“Are you familiar with the 139th Psalm of the Old Testament?”

“Not… specifically…?”

Another page turn. “You should read it.”

Sam watched the expressionless swath of skin and stubble underneath Castiel’s jaw as if it would offer any further explanation. When none came, he frowned briefly and tried to refocus on his reading.

The silence broke again with, “I should never have referred to you as an abomination.”

The hunter rolled his eyes, and calmly lifted one hand to sharply squeeze Castiel’s knee. A satisfying jolt ran through the leg, making his head bounce along with it. He glanced up and stifled a snort at the wary expression staring down at him. “Cas,  _I am fine_ ,” he reiterated. “You don’t have to apologize for stuff like that. It was a long time ago.”

“You could have just said so,” the angel muttered. “No need to bring physical confrontation into it.”

“I  _did_  say so. And what, you don’t like it when I do that?” Sam grinned and went for the knee again.

Cas batted his hand away. “You already know I’m ticklish, there’s no need for demonstration.”

“There’s  _always_  need for demonstration.”

“Sam, no. Sam.  _Sam_.” The hunter had abandoned his book; apparently research time was over. That would have been far less distressing if not for the way Sam was assuming a position Cas recognized as one that usually preceded one of the Winchesters’ wrestling matches. “ _Sam_ …” he attempted one last time. Then he bolted.

Sam barked a laugh and vaulted easily over the back of the couch. “Get back here!”

There was the pounding of feet, a clatter of chairs, the swish of Sam’s jeans as he took another shortcut over a piece of furniture, then finally a panicked yelp and a thud, followed by “You okay?” and “Yes, just don’t- aaaAH! S-Saham!”

Sam’s knee was pressed into the angel’s lower back, pinning him to the floor. His fingers started to prod Castiel’s sides, and Cas was attempting to squirm out from under him while trying not to laugh.

“Sam, ple-ease…” His voice cracked when the hunter kneaded higher up his ribs. “I’m sorry for being sorr-eeHEE no no  _no_  NOhohohoho!”

The grin on Sam’s face widened as he spidered up and down the back of Cas’ ribcage. Cas cackled and clamped down his elbows as far back as they would go. It looked like he was trying to fold himself in half along his spine.

“You need to stop apologizing,” Sam laughed.

“I’m sor- I…” Castiel’s verbal confusion dissolved into snorts and giggles when Sam tickled up the back of his neck. He hunched like a turtle and whipped one arm up to grab at the attacking hands. His coordination was on a rapid decline but his grip hadn’t lost any potency, so when he found Sam’s wrist and gave a sharp pull, the hunter was wrenched off balance and tumbled to the floor.

Cas wasted no time on scrambling up on his knees and scooting backwards to put at least a cautionary distance between himself and his chuckling assailant.

“Doesn’t that activity get repetitive after the first half-dozen times?” Cas asked, his leftover smile robbing the question of any consternation.

“Not really, no.”

—-

When Sam padded into the library the next morning with two steaming mugs of coffee, Castiel was nowhere to be seen. He set one mug down on the table with a light sigh. Cas probably would have only been able to taste its chemical composition, anyway.

He picked a new book from the shelf where they’d left off the night before and sipped his coffee while turning it over in his hand on his way to the sofa, studying the ornate pattern on the cover. He rounded the corner of the couch and nearly choked in startlement.

Cas was laying on the couch, flat on his back, holding a book above his face. A  _huge_  book - some bulky illuminated manuscript with yellowing pages and a thick leather cover that looked like it could have weighed about thirty pounds all told. Once Sam successfully swallowed his mouthful of coffee, he briefly wondered how long Cas had been holding it up like that.

“Morning,” he managed after clearing his throat. He noticed the coat and suit jacket hanging over the arm of the couch, just like the prior day.

“Good morning, Sam.”

“You, uh… you want any coffee?”

The angel made a face. “I doubt that would be pleasant right now. But thank you for offering.”

“No problem.” Sam stood there for a few more seconds before asking, “Is that… comfortable?”

Castiel looked up at him, appearing to consider it for a moment. “I thought it might be. You seemed content like this yesterday. But I don’t think I find it more agreeable than any other position.”

Sam smiled. “Well, you’re missing one component. Sit up for a second.” The angel complied, and Sam set his mug on the coffee table before sitting in the vacated space. “Alright, lie back down.”

A look of concentration passed over Castiel’s face as he dropped his head back on Sam’s lap and adjusted the lay of his neck and shoulders. Once he stilled, he gazed up at the ceiling for a moment before his focus twitched back to Sam. “I can see into your nasal passages from this perspective.”

Sam just laughed. “Better or worse?”

“Better.” Cas hoisted the manuscript up to resume reading. “The lighting suits this angle more appropriately.”

Sam propped his elbow on the arm of the couch, thumbed open his suddenly miniature-seeming volume, and settled into several minutes of comfortable quiet.

When Sam lifted his other arm from the back of the couch to turn the page, it took him a second to realize that he… hadn’t. He’d  _thought_  about it - reaching forward, flicking the edge of the paper, resting back along the cushions - but it hadn’t happened. He tried again. His arm didn’t respond to his command. Confusion suddenly melting away, Sam glared down at his lap. Castiel was looking up at him, positively smug.

“Cas,” he warned. “Let me go.”

The angel clapped his ancient manuscript closed and sat up to place it on the coffee table. “I will.”

“ _Now_ , please?”

“No.” Cas grinned and plucked the hunter’s book from his limp fingers, laying it aside as well. “I’d like to… repay you for yesterday.”

“What? …Oh. No, Cas, wait!”

Castiel slid in close, practically straddling his lap. Sam tried to curl up, push Cas away, get up and run,  _anything_  - but his body wouldn’t obey. He could move his head, but his feet stayed planted on the floor and his arms rested comfortably out along the arm and back of the couch. The angel had only ever mojoed him for his own good before - like throwing him out of a monster’s path, or sending him to peaceful sleep when the nightmares or hallucinations reared up.  _This_  was new. And a bit unsettling.

“I’m sorry for yesterday, please don’t,” Sam pleaded, trying to fight off a nervous laugh.

“As I recall, ‘sorry’ didn’t do  _me_  much good,” Cas smirked. He rested his fingertips high on Sam’s ribs.

Sam bit his lip and scrunched his eyes shut,  _willing_  himself to move.

Not even a twitch. Dammit.

Then the angel’s fingers were wiggling, skimming across the thin cotton of his tee, and Sam squeaked before falling into a fit of laughter. Cas tickled down his sides and converged in over his stomach, spidering across muscle that Sam couldn’t even clench.

“Cas, plehehehehease! I’m sohohorry!”

“Did you not understand my point about the word 'sorry’?” The fingers darted higher, edging into his armpits, and it was all Sam could do not to shriek.

“ _Dohohohon’t_! NO! Ahahahahahahahaha!” His head dropped back against the couch as he cackled helplessly. It was unbearable - Cas skittered and spiraled from his triceps to his ribs and back again, and he  _couldn’t. move_. Couldn’t stop it, couldn’t defend himself in the slightest. “ _Plehehehehease_ , just tehehell me what you wahahahahant! I’ll do ahahahanythihihing!”

Castiel seemed to contemplate that for a moment, but didn’t slow his fingers.

“CAHAHAHAAAAS!”

Sam gasped a deep breath when Cas wordlessly dropped his hands back to his stomach. He still giggled while mindless patterns were drawn over his abs, but that was tolerable at least.

“Will you stop dismissing my apologies?”

“Sure, yes, I prohohomise!”

“Very well.”

Sam curled in on himself when Cas moved off and emancipated his limbs. “That was uncalled for,” he complained benignly.

“…I need you to forgive me, Sam.”

The sudden seriousness in Castiel’s tone sobered Sam immediately. He looked up into earnest blue eyes that caught him off guard, begged something of him.

“Cas…” Sam almost stumbled over the words, so unbelievably simple were they. “Of course I forgive you.”

The angel dropped his gaze to the floor and seemed to shrink. “For  _everything_?” He glanced back up. “There is a lot.”

Sam wrapped an arm around Castiel’s slumped shoulders and pulled him in. “Yes, for everything.”

Cas was quiet for a moment in the hunter’s embrace.

“Thank you, Sam.”


End file.
